Panic Room: The Novel
by VanityBlue
Summary: You've seen the movie, have you read the novel? Well here's your chance. It's rated R for language and violence, just to be on the safe side!
1. Viewing the Property

Panic Room: The Novel

Disclaimer: I do not own the script of Panic Room, or the film or anything to do with Panic Room. I do not own micro scooters either. I'm not sure if the American's call them that, but we do, so that's what I'm calling them. Oh, and while I'm at it, I do not own any of the brand names I use, they belong to individual companies.

A/N: Ok, I'm writing this because I want to. Not because I want reviews or anything, although that would be an added bonus. This is basically the story of the film, padded out, with my own adaptations. Please bear with me as I only have the draft script (from the movie) to work from. It also has an alternate ending, which I'm not sure I will use. I apologise for any mistakes I might make, as I am English and the script and film is American, there is bound to be errors. Feel free to point them out.

Chapter One

Three figures hurried down West 83rd street, New York City. Real estate agent broker, Lydia Lynch led the group, practically vaulting down the sidewalk; she sure had one hell of a stride. Meg Altman struggled to keep up; she was a tall, wafer thin woman of about thirty, with a face as pale as the grave. 11 year old Sarah Altman followed them, scooting on a metallic red micro scooter. You could tell she was Meg's daughter, the resemblance was clear even with the age difference.

"…Seventeen feet wide, fifty-five feet deep, forty-two hundred square feet altogether. Four floors, with a rentable basement, so actually that counts as five, courtyard out back…"

"Sorry, could you slow down a little?" Meg interrupted Lydia's mini lecture, and looked over her shoulder. "Or we could wait for the car…"

This latest idea was squashed flat by the estate agent. "No, no cars. We could be stuck in traffic for ages. Feet are faster."

Sarah rolled her eyes "Feet are faster!" she mimicked under her breath "For you maybe!" Meg looked back at her, shooting her a warning look. Sarah pointedly ignored it.

Meg turned back at Lydia, "So, how many do we have left to view after this?"

"None. There's nothing else. You know how tight the market is." Her manner was brisk and abrupt; it obviously made Meg uncomfortable.

"But I told you on the phone. I need to be moved in in two weeks." She looked over her shoulder at her daughter again. "Don't use that here Sarah."

Sarah pulled a face. "Mom, it's the sidewalk." And carried on scooting.

"Oh, that miserable little prick is already leaving." Lydia commented as they neared a row of brownstones. Narrow four storey townhouses, they must be a hundred years old or more.

A sour-looking man has locked the door of number twenty-six and was just starting down the steps. He noticed Lydia hurrying towards him.

The man, whose name was Evan, looked irritated. "Lydia, one day you will learn to respect other people's time. One day you will…"

But Lydia didn't seem too bothered about would happen to her, as she interrupted him before he finished. "Evan, I'm so sorry, you were a saint to wait for us!"

Evan turned, and headed back up the steps, to unlock the door. Muttering all the way. He threw open the door, revealing the airy foyer of the house. The place was completely empty, and Meg and Sarah were overwhelmed by all the space. The group filed in, Evan leaving Lydia to shut the door.

He talked fast, obviously behind schedule. "This is the middle of the house, the entry floor." He gestured with his arms, "the living room's over there, the kitchen's on the floor below, and there are two bedroom floors above."

Lydia slammed the door with a THUD, as if to say no one's ever getting out. Meg tried (and failed) to get Sarah's attention to tell her to stop riding her scooter in the house.

Evan continued his briefing, "It's an enormous amount of space for the money, and, if I'm perfectly honest, the family are in no hurry whatsoever."

Meg whispered Sarah's name, but either she didn't hear, or chose to ignore it, as Meg didn't get a reaction.

But Evan didn't seem bothered by Sarah's antics and kept on going. "I don't have to tell you there is an acute shortage of living space on the market in Manhattan right now, and this is a highly unique property."

Lydia cut across him and shouted over at Sarah, "No scooter, kid."

"Her name's Sarah." Meg corrected her.

Sarah instantly picked up the scooter and swings it across her back, wandering in to the living room and peering through the big French doors, which look out over a courtyard area. There's another row of brownstones on the next block and all the patios back up to each other. It looks peaceful out there, like an oasis in the city.

"It's got a yard. Sort of."

Evan flung open the door of an old fashioned cage style elevator. "Working elevator, Mr. Pearlstine, the previous owner, was disabled in the last ten years of his life. The elevator is highly unusual and one like it will not be found in ninety percent of brownstones."

Meg looked at Evan, "Will they take asking price? I need a two week escrow and I'm already approved for the loan."

Lydia turned and gave Meg, an "are you insane?" look.

"Why don't we see the house before we dicker, hmm? I have to warn you, this is the response we expected to get, after all, it's a very emotional property." He started up the stairs, leaving them in the foyer.

Lydia waited until he was out of hearing range, "Who taught you to negotiate?" she asked rudely.

Sarah looked at her mother, "It's not like Saks' Mom; you don't have to pay the price on the tag." She got in the elevator and rattled the cage shut with a bang. That kid sure had attitude.

Meg brushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, her hand was shaking. "I'm sorry, apartments, and…money, and…this is more my husband's area."

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a prescription pill bottle and some water.

"Was. His area I mean. I'm not very good at…"

Lydia watched as she swallowed a pill, and waited impatiently for her to finish her sentence. Not very good at what?

"…things, and if I can't prove to my soon to-be ex-husband that I can find a suitable place for our daughter to live in the next fourteen days, it's going to get ugly between us. Uglier."

Lydia just looked at her, no idea what to say. The two are as different as chalk and cheese.

Evan called down from upstairs, interrupting the awkward silence. "It would be so lovely if I could show you the property before I leave!"

Evan, Lydia, and Meg poked their heads into a series of different rooms, one after the other, the tour flying by quickly. First, an upstairs bedroom, nice, roomy, looks out on onto the courtyard.

"This is the top floor, two bedrooms, and one bathroom." Evan kept up a running commentary.

Another floor, another empty room. "This is the third floor, spare bedroom, den what have you. Mr. Pearlstine used it as an office."

"He's talking about Bernard Pearlstine." Lydia whispered to Meg.

Meg shrugged, "Who's he?"

Evan moved through to a bathroom, "Master bath."

Lydia stayed back to talk to Meg. "He was the hotel guy. You know? He's been in all the papers lately. His kids are all suing each other over his estate. He was a total recluse, paranoid, rich as hell; he was worth thirty million or something, and now it turns out they can't find half of it!" She paused, and then carried on in a sing song voice, "Well, it looks like somebody took something they shouldn't!"

Evan poked his head around the doorframe, "I can hardly see how family gossip is relevant to showing the property."

Lydia muttered to Meg, "I wish he'd stop calling it the property, it sounds ridiculous." The two obviously didn't get along.

Evan, who had disappeared into a closet, "This is the master closet."

There was a groaning metallic sound from the hallway, the elevator, and Sarah's laughter as she put it through its paces.

Evan winced, "Could the little one please stop that?"

"KID!" Lydia shouted, "NO ELEVATOR!" she glanced at Meg and winks.

"And here we emerge in the Master Bedroom." He checked his watch; he's going to be late home, again.

Meg looked around the room, a puzzled expression displayed across her face. "Isn't this room a little smaller that it should be?" She asked Evan.

Evan smiled, wearily. "I was waiting for you to notice! No one back at the office had the slightest idea until it was pointed out." He walks up to the panelled wall, and chooses one, that at a glance looks identical to the others, except for the fact it had a large mirror fixed to it, but when you look closer you can see a faint vertical hair line crack running along it's length. Evan pushed the panel and it swings back, revealing a small windowless box room.

Meg and Lydia step forward, fascinated. Their eyes squinting; unaccustomed to the dark.

"It's called a panic room." He hit a switch just inside the door and a row of bulbs flickered on, illuminating the room. It made the two women blink in surprise.

"A what room?" Meg asked, for the sake of her own curiosity.

Evan seemed delighted to elaborate, "A safe room. An Inner Sanctum. A castle keep, in medieval times."

Lydia gave a slight nod of recognition. "Oh, I've seen these…"

"It's quite popular in high end construction right now. One can't be too careful about home invasion." Evan continued.

The other two walked inside, but Meg lingered near the door, inspecting the room from a safe distance. Several crates of survival supplies, each labelled with their contents. Water, Food, Battery Packs, Flash Lights, Clothes, Blankets, Rope, Tools and various other items.

Lydia looked at Meg, "Hey, this is perfect for you."

Meg scoffed, "Sure."

"Absolutely. You're a single mom, say your alarm goes off, or you hear breaking glass, or for whatever reason you think someone's broken into your home in the middle of the night. What are you going to do? Call the cops and wait 'till Tuesday? Go downstairs in your sexy little negligee and investigate it yourself? I don't think so!"

Evan took a more business like manner of explaining the use of the room. "Reinforced steel core walls. Buried phone line, completely separate from the house's main line, and never exposed throughout the house's infrastructure, or outside the house. You can call the police and no one can cut you off. There's your own ventilation system, complete with oxygen scrubber, so you have plenty of fresh air for as long as you like. A toilet. And a bank of video monitors…" He flicked a switch next to a dozen tiny monitors and they all buzzed into life, each one showing a different view of the house. "Each monitor shows a different angle of the house, covering almost every corner."

Meg nodded. She felt a little too warm. "Well it sure makes me nervous."

Lydia frowned, "Why?" she asked, bluntly.

Meg smiled coldly at her, "Ever read any Poe?"

Lydia shook her head, "I don't think so, but I love her new album."

It was Meg's turn to shake her head, "No, Edgar Allen." She said in an exasperated tone.

Her words didn't mean much to Lydia. "The furniture guy?"

Meg gave up, and turned her attention to Evan. "So, what's to stop them from prying open the door?"

He reached past Meg, the palm of his hand brushing against a red button, situated directly under a green one, next to the door. With a sudden WHANG of steel, a heavy metal door glided out of a slot in the wall and SLAMMED shut, giving off a slight vibration as it did so. A series of metal latches clicked inside it, from top to bottom, sealing it in place.

"That's steel, about four inches thick. No one is prying that door off."

Meg taook a step back. Now they're enclosed in the room.

Evan continued firing out information, like a machine gun would bullets. "Everything's spring loaded, so even if the power's down it's still fully functional."

Meg had stopped listening. "Open it." Her voice had an unmistakable tremor.

"Old Bernie didn't miss a trick, did he?" Lydia stated.

"Open the door."

Lydia carried on "And with kid's like he's got, no wonder he wanted a place to hide." She seemed to know more about the Pearlstine family than she did the house. Lydia was obviously a gossip queen.

"I said, open the door." Meg was breathing shallowly; she put out a hand to steady herself.

Evan obligingly reached out and pressed the green button this time, and the latches clicked open, the sliding back into its slot, revealing Sarah, standing awed in the doorway.

"Wow. This is my room, definitely my room."

She bolted in, just as her mother bolted out. Meg stood just outside the panic room, rapidly regaining her composure. "I'm not crazy about tight spaces." She stated the obvious.

Lydia was too busy inspecting the door to be concerned with Meg's claustrophobia issues. "This door is a safety hazard."

"Not at all," Evan contradicted. He points, there's a tiny green beam that shines across the doorway, one at shoulder height…

"Infrared. Like the beam in an elevator doorway. It won't let the door close if something's blocking it."

…and one at shin height. Evan bent down, and blocked the one at shin height with his hand. "Watch this." He reached up to press the red button, but he couldn't quite reach. "Lydia, press that red button for me, will you?"

"Don't!" Meg cried out.

But she did, with an unnatural expression of malice on her face. However, nothing happened.

Evan stood up, removing his hand, the beam became complete. "Try again."

Lydia pushed the button again. This time the door rocketed shut, the metallic clang reverberated around the room. Almost immediately the piece of fake wall hummed shut, closing over the door and making the room look complete again. Meg saw her reflection in the mirror; she looked at herself, still rattled, and wiped a trickle of sweat from her face.


	2. Break In

Panic Room: The Novel 

Chapter Two

The Same House, Two weeks later

Sarah stacked the last crate onto a pile of about three. She sighed and kicked off her shoes, lying down on the tiled floor, even with all her energy and athletic personality, she was exhausted. Moving really took the best out of a person.

Meg walked into the foyer and noticed Sarah on the floor. Her heart hammered in her chest. She went straight into panic mode.

"Oh my god. Sarah are you okay? Can you hear me?" She ran to her daughter's side.

Sarah sat up. "Mom, I'm fine. Stop fussing. I was just resting, okay?" She sounded agitated, as if she got this all the time.

Meg knelt on the floor. "Sorry, you scared me, that's all, I thought you'd…"

Sarah cut across her, "Yeah, well I hadn't." She lay back on the floor.

Meg hesitated, and then she lay down next to her. They stared at the ceiling, too tired to speak, surrounded by moving boxes, crates and packing cases.

Finally Sarah broke the silence. "I'm starving." She stated, simply.

Meg sat up and raised her cell phone to her ear.

"The battery's dead." She stated, lowering her hand.

Sarah groaned, always the pessimist. "What are we going to eat?"

Meg thought over the possibilities. "Well, I could cook something…" She secretly hoped Sarah wouldn't pick this option; she really could not be bothered to cook. "…Or we could get a take out?"

"579 3000" was Sarah's only response.

Meg stood at the phone in the kitchen, the receiver held in one hand. "Come on, come on…" She muttered to herself, upstairs, on the floor above, Sarah was bouncing a basket ball.

"Yes!" Meg called up to her daughter, "Hey, I've hooked up the phone!"

Sarah caught her ball, "Good for you Mom! The crowd goes wild!" She said the last part under her breath with immense sarcasm.

Meg began punching numbers into the handset, "5…7…9…"

"3000." Sarah called down.

The phone rang twice, and then someone picked up. "Perry's Pizza Delivery, please hold…"

Night had fallen by the time the pizza had arrived. They sat at an island in the kitchen and ate it straight from the box with their fingers.

Sarah's hand hovered over the last slice, she looked at Meg.

"Go ahead." Sarah took the slice and chewed slowly, savouring every mouthful.

"I should've fixed up something special as it's our first night." Meg said, apologetically.

"I like pizza," Sarah stated, truthfully. She poured Coca Cola into a tumbler glass.

"Hey, that's enough." Meg told her, and Sarah put down the can and picked up the half full glass.

Meg sipped her wine steadily, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Sarah noticed. Meg looked at her, "I'm human, what do you expect me to do? Hide it?"

Sarah looked away, went back to her pizza, unable to think up a suitable reply.

"Fuck him." She said, eventually. Coarse words coming from an eleven year old.

"Don't." Was all Meg said.

"Fuck her too."

"I agree, but don't." She poured out more Coke for her daughter.

Sarah nodded her at her, "Thanks." Meg poured herself more wine. Sarah's eyes watched her intently as the wine sloshed into the glass.

Sarah sat crossed legged on her single bed. Her short hair newly washed and wrapped in a towel. She was wearing her pyjamas.

"Don't you think this place has too many stairs?" She asked her mother.

"Well you didn't carry anything up them." Meg stated, taking a stuffed animal from Sarah's bed and moving it onto the fitted floor-to-ceiling shelving unit.

"You know," Sarah carried on, "you never did ask me what I thought of this house."

"Only because I didn't want you to tell me you hated it." Meg answered.

"I liked our old house." She stated.

"So did I." Meg replied. She changed subjects to avoid talking about her ex-husband. "Hey, you know what I was thinking?" She didn't give Sarah enough time to answer. "I was thinking we could stencil the whole bookcase. We could cut the stencils and do it ourselves."

"Go ahead." Sarah said, unenthusiastically.

Meg walked across the room and sifted through a cardboard box. "I've got to set up that tour of your new school."

"Dad already did it." Sarah said, from the bed. "I'm going with him on Sunday."

"Oh yeah?" Meg carried on looking through the box.

"So I'll just take a cab and meet him there."

Meg stopped rummaging through the box and straightened up, turning to face her daughter. "Is that what he said?"

"Isn't that what's so great about Manhattan, you don't have to drive me everywhere?"

"I'll ride with you." Meg said, walking over to the bed.

Sarah uncrossed her legs and crawled to the head of the bed, sliding under the covers. "Why d'you bring me here if you won't let me go anywhere on my own?"

"That's it. I quit. I'm not fighting with you till tomorrow." She bent down and opened a mini fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and placed it on the bedside unit. She unwrapped the towel from Sarah's hair, and gently brushed several strands from her eyes. "You know, it's disgusting how much I love you."

Sarah looked up at her mother. "Tell me about it."

Meg kissed her forehead and walked to the door. But Sarah called out. "Mom?"

Meg turned round, "Yeah?"

"It's too dark." Sarah said.

Meg went to Sarah's walk in closet and switched on the light, pulling the door shut so only a sliver of light escaped into the room. "That better?" She asked on her way to the door.

"Yep." Was the only reply she earned.

After she'd said goodnight to Sarah, Meg set about moving some of her possessions from cardboard boxes, into her bedroom. She picked up a box from a pile just outside the elevator, and carried it down the hall. A thunder clap made her jump. She looked up at the glass dome set into the roof. Rain hammered down, echoing through the house. Meg shuddered, and started down the stairs.

She sat in her room, her back against the wall, next to a stack of boxes. She used one hand to unpack the nearest box, and another to hold her wine glass. She placed the articles on the floor beside her. A phone charger and several framed photographs of Sarah as a baby.

When she'd emptied the box she reached under the bed to plug in the phone charger. She put the charger on the cabinet and slotted her mobile into it. It gave a satisfactory beep as it started charging.

Then she set about making up the bed. Shaking out the sheet and folding it over the mattress. In the corner, the door to the panic room was open. Several cushions and a blanket were scattered inside, blocking the motion sensor.

Having made the bed, Meg yawned and decided it was time she relaxed.

She lay back in the bath. The master bathroom sure was big. She reached over the side for her half full glass of wine. She sipped it, tears trickling down her face and splashing into the bath water. She finished her glass and reached for the bottle. She refilled it, again. As if drinking her problems away were a solution.

Dressed in a sleeveless T-Shirt and loose fitting trousers, Meg stood next to the security panel, situated on the wall in her bedroom. She was frustrated and muttered to herself, slurring slightly, as she stabbed at buttons, checked the manual held in her right hand, stabbed more buttons, cursed under her breath and then started over.

"Bypass non-ready zones…shunt, enter, zone number…" She tried it, pushed various buttons, but the alarm panel just beeped at her disapprovingly. She'd made yet another mistake. "Oops." She sighed, and sat down on the floor, her back against the wall. Now she was serious about figuring the instructions.

"Bypass non-ready zones…ah, shunt, enter zone number, and shunt again." Behind her, in the panic room, the monitors flicked on, each one showing a different view of the house. She sighed again. She'd figure out how to turn those off in the morning. She climbed into her bed…

Downstairs; on the ground floor, a van pulled up outside. You could just about make out three figures as they stepped out. Suddenly a large black man leaned up against the barred window, peering in.

Back in Meg's room the digital clock displayed the time: 1.26. The six flicked to a seven, and Meg rolled over, her arms stretched out over the bed. A bed, that until recently, she had shared. Her empty wineglass stood on the floor, beside the bed. It looked like she was in for a heavy alcoholic fitful sleep. So she wasn't aware of the goings on, two floors below…

The man had disappeared from the window and had mage his way to the door. He inserted a key into the lock, but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't turn. He gave up, and walked back past the window and muttered something to another man.

The French doors rattled, but the key wouldn't turn in that lock either. He reached up and pulled down a ladder. The fire escape. He began to climb…

The rain still hammered on the glass dome. A silhouette walked slowly around it, disappearing from view. Along the hall, in a box room that was probably used for storage, the man has gained access to the house via a sky light. He jumped silently to the floor, and began to walk down the corridor. He was halfway down the stairs when something caught his eye. He tilted his head and blinked. The bathroom door was ajar, and plugged in close to the floor, was a glowing night light. In the shape of a girls head.


	3. Panic

Panic Room: the Novel 

Chapter Three

Meg sat bolt upright in bed and rubbed her eyes groggily. She reached for her bottle of water and gulped it thirstily.

On the floor above, the man had pushed open the door to Sarah's bedroom. He looked in and saw Sarah lying in her bed, facing the door, her eyes shut, obviously asleep. Silently he pulled the door closed and walked slowly and quietly down the stairs to the third floor.

Meg lay back down. She rolled onto her side, and stared out of the window. A black shadow appeared in the doorway behind her, but, as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. The instant it vanished, Meg turned over, settling back to sleep.

The man, the nametag on his boiler suit read 'Burnham', had made it to the ground floor without any more problems. He walked to the door and unlocked it; pulling open, allowing a younger man to enter. His hair was braided and he wore a long brown coat. He staggered in carrying two holdalls, and dumped them on the floor.

Another man knocked on the window. The braided guy signalled for him to come in.

Burnham looked at him, "And who the hell is that, Junior?" He pointed at the newcomer.

Junior stayed calm, "That, is Raoul." He walked to the door to let Raoul in.

Burnham didn't like to be left out of the picture. "Who the fuck is Raoul?" He demanded.

Junior ignored his tone, "Raoul is okay, Raoul is an expert, and Raoul has experience."

"Where d'you get him?" Burnham wanted to know.

"Through some people." Junior answered, and pulled open the door, revealing a tall, sturdy built man, wearing a black woollen balaclava.

Junior was distracted from his introductions by a pile of cardboard boxes labelled 'Altman'. He walked to the middle of the room, setting eyes upon more boxes and two mountain bikes.

"What the fuck is this!" He turned to face Burnham, anger displayed across his features.

Burnham was quick to explain. "There's a little girl on the top floor, and a woman on the third. They're both asleep."

Junior pointed at him, whispering urgently, "Now, they're not supposed to be here."

"That's your department."

"But they are NOT supposed to be here." Junior repeated, in disbelief.

Burnham was the quick thinker. "We're on video tape. We are all on video tape. This place has cameras that cover almost every square inch!"

Junior interrupted him; he still couldn't believe his eyes. "Fourteen day escrow."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"They had a fourteen day escrow. That's almost three weeks. They are not supposed to be in here for another week."

Burnham was confused, "Exactly how is fourteen days, three weeks?" He asked.

"Business days," Junior replied almost instantly. "Escrow is always business days, five day weeks always!"

Burnham walked to where Junior had left the holdalls; he bent down to pick them up. "I'm outta here." He straightened up, a holdall in each hand.

"Wait! Wait! Wait a minute!" Junior sounded desperate. "We can handle this. We can handle this!" He turned to Raoul, who was leaning against a wall, smirking. "Can we still handle this?"

"There's just a woman and a kid." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Raoul's way of talking.

"Unless daddy comes home." Burnham argued.

Junior whipped around to face him. "Daddy's not coming home. They're in the middle of a divorce; it's just her, and the kid." He turned back to Raoul. "Now can we do this?"

"Yeah, we can do it."

Junior grinned at Raoul in triumph.

"You mean YOU can do it. I'm gone." Burnham walked to the door.

Upstairs Meg was paying for her alcohol consumption. She'd woken up, again. She heaved herself out of bed, totally oblivious to the argument that was going on below her.

Burnham was voicing yet more reasons why they should call off the job. "Suppose she wakes up, suppose she…"

"Yeah, well we'll keep an eye on her. Raoul can totally administrate that part."

"He's not even supposed to BE here."

Meg yawned; drinking all that water had taken its toll on her. She walked to the nearest doorway and switched on the light. Wrong room. The panic room. She left the light on and went in search of the bathroom. She didn't notice the three people arguing on one of the monitors.

"Nobody gets hurt." Junior reassured Burnham.

"And what about us? What if she has a gun?"

Raoul reached a hand under his coat, pulling a gun from a holster under his arm.

Burnham looked at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Raoul." Was the only answer he got.

Burnham walked to the door.

Junior carried on talking. "You know we can't do this without you! This is still a good plan. Fuck that, this is a great plan. This is just a minor set back."

Burnham put down the holdalls. "Oh yeah! And just how long would we get inside for this?"

Junior avoided the question. "Think of all the promises you made. Promises to me, promises to your kids."

"Don't bring family into this."

He lowered his voice so that Burnham could just about hear him, "Okay, okay. But the fact of the matter is, there is still three million dollars in this house, and you and I are the only people that know it's here. I want that money. I want it. And you, you need that money, or have you forgotten why you're here?" Burnham didn't answer. "So let's just quit fucking around and get on with it. Okay?"

"Kill the phones." Was all that Burnham said.

Upstairs Meg had found the ensuite and was shaking bottles of pills until she found the correct one. She tipped two into her hand and re-screwed the cap. Swallowing the tablets with water from the tap. She sat on the toilet…

The three men, Junior, Burnham and Raoul made their way, slowly up the stairs, taking each step at a time, treading carefully.

Meg stood up from the toilet and reached for the flush. She couldn't find it in the dark, and it took her a second to realise where it was. She pulled it, water gurgling loudly through the pipes. Out on the staircase, the burglars froze. They heard a cistern flushing and then muffled footsteps as Meg made her way back to bed. She lay down, just about to shut her eyes when she realised she'd left the panic room light on. Grudgingly she got back out of bed, and walked across the cold floor to switch off the light. Just as she was about to turn and go back to bed, she noticed three figures on the stairway monitor…

Junior started to walk slowly up the next flight of stairs. His quiet approach was ruined when he kicked Sarah's basketball, which she had left out on the stairs the night before. It bounced down the steps and rolled into the living room, coming to rest against the sofa.

Meg breathed in sharply, her head whipping around. Panic registered on her features and her breath came shallowly.

The burglars continued on up the stairs.

Meg ran, her bare feet pounding on the wooden floor, from her room, up the next flight of stairs to Sarah's room.

Junior started barking orders. "Raoul, top floor, the little girl. I'll get the mother. Give me the gun!" He snatched it form Raoul's hands. He pointed it at Burnham, "You stay here, and nobody gets past." Then Raoul and Junior sprinted up the stairs, Meg was already at the top of the next flight.

The men slowed to push open doors and check rooms as they passed. Meg ran to Sarah's room and shook her daughter, roughly.

"Sarah! Sarah wake up!" But Sarah just moaned in her sleep and rolled over. Meg was getting desperate, the footsteps were getting louder. She grabbed the Evian bottle and tipped the contents over Sarah's face. She sat up, instantly awake.

"What did you do that for!" She exclaimed. Meg put her finger to her lips and grabbed Sarah's hand, pulling her out of bed. They ran for the stairs but Raoul was at the end of the hall, blocking them off. They were trapped.

"Where are you going? Huh!" He asked. Mother and daughter froze, hand's still linked. Then a thought struck Meg, she pulled Sarah back, and bundled her into the elevator. Then she dived in, and yanked the cage shut. Raoul ran for the door, but he was too late. He ran back to the stairs.

Inside the elevator, Sarah wanted to know what was happening. "What's going on?" She asked her mother, as they caught their breath.

"People. In the house." Meg said and hugged her daughter close.

"They're coming down!" Raoul called down to Junior over the banisters, "In the elevator, head 'em off."

Junior wrenched at the handle of the elevator door, but it wouldn't open. Through the glass panel he saw Meg and Sarah huddled together as the elevator kept on going down.

"They're comin' down to you!" He called to Burnham.

"Hey, I told you, I don't hurt people."

Junior sighed in exasperation and flew down the last flight of stairs, waving the gun erratically.

In the elevator, Meg realised what was happening. "They're coming down!" She exclaimed.

Sarah thought, "That room." She said slowly.

"What?"

"PANIC ROOM!"

Meg jabbed at the up button on the elevator panel. Nothing happened.

Sarah elbowed her out of the way. "No, you have to press emergency stop." She hit the button, and the elevator stopped. Meg sighed. I gotta love that kid. She thought to herself.

Junior realised that they weren't coming down. "Fuck." He swore, and ran back up the stairs. "They're coming back up!" But he wasn't quick enough.

The elevator reached the third floor, and Meg threw open the cage and pushed open the door, pulling Sarah after her. They dived through an open door, running and running. Junior and Raoul gave chase, but they weren't quick enough. Raoul had taken the wrong door, Junior ran full pelt at the end door, but it wouldn't open, cardboard moving boxes were blocking the way.

Meg and Sarah dived for the safety of the Panic Room, Meg scrabbling on the floor, pulling the cushions out of the way of the beam. "GO!" She screamed at Sarah. Sarah whacked the red button and the doors rocketed shut, just as Junior ran into the room, screaming and cursing at the top of his voice. He pummelled the door with the flat of his hands. "Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!"


End file.
